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“I’m not saying no,” Pax said gently, “but I am saying we should keep our options open. I don’t see this place flying off the market in this condition. Get through the summit, secure the funding, then we look at all our options, whether they’re here in Chicago, or somewhere…warmer.”
“Thank you, QB,” Max said smugly, rising from where he’d been examining some sort of moisture buildup behind the trim with a sneer so disapproving his lip was about to curl.
“Okay, okay,” I said, glancing down at Mara on my phone screen, whose expression was equal parts amused and exasperated. “We keep hunting?”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
I laughed before exchanging quick goodbyes and pocketing my phone, following the guys down the stairs and out of the massive gothic building, where we all eyed the enormous exterior. “I just love the?—”
“History of the place,” Pax finished.
“Yeah,” I agreed before Max’s hands landed on my shoulders, yanking me toward him.
“I say this with love, Elly. But don’t sink this ship for aesthetics. You’ve got too much potential, and too much time wrapped into it to not be pragmatic with this.”
“I know.”
“Okay. As your best friend, it’s my job to make sure that head of yours stays at least distantly connected to the earth.”
Laughing, I wrapped an arm around each of their waists, and turned to walk to our lunch date, somewhere we hoped Pax could enjoy his double chicken breast on salad without being recognized behind a thick beanie and aviators. “Thanks for coming with me, guys.”
“Anytime,” my not-so-little brother said, giving me a squeeze as we marched in sync down the sidewalk. “You have fun in Vegas—but not too much fun. I don’t want to wire you bail money—and don’t make your competitors cry too hard, okay?” Mostly, I was just hung up on the fact that he probably would wire me bail money if I needed it. Fighting back my smile, I led us to our last Chicago dinner of the year. This was going to work. Tomorrow would be a day of a few dozen emails and one decent layover before I was in a much warmer climate. And then my fun would begin.
Broderick
“You all packed up, teach?” Jake asked at guys’ night the day before my flight out for the summit. I had, in fact, purged my house in the three weeks since I kicked Sarah out, starting with the damn mattress she’d defiled with who knows how many men. The long-overdue renovation had officially begun, starting in the outdated kitchen. Poker nights were a biweekly ritual for all of us these days, although they’d felt like a goddamned life preserver this month. The guys helped me keep my head on straight, sights set on winning this grant as I dealt with the fallout of the official end of our relationship. I wasn’t a social guy, by any means, but when you grew up with the Rhodes family, just their bloodline ensured a decent obligatory social circle. Jake was one of their innumerable cousins, and coincidentally, one of the easiest guys to get along with. His brother, Charlie, was the same, despite being our town sheriff.
“Yeah,” I sighed, keeping my poker face as I stared him down, waiting to see what he would do. Jameson tapped his cards against the table impatiently, while his younger brother, Axel, laced his fingers behind his head.
“I‘m sure he was color coded a week ago,” Jameson said dryly, smirking in my direction. Yeah, I liked organization, so what? If I didn’t properly pre-plan, I’d inevitably forget something crucial.
“If you bothered to wear anything but black, you could try it some time,” I snipped back as Jake tossed his chips into the pot, raising the bet. To Jake, I added, “Flight out is at seven am.”
“Nice. You’ll be warm by sundown.”
“Thank God for that.” A thirty-degree difference would feel insanely awesome.
“Need to run through your presentation again?” Charlie offered helpfully, always a willing encourager.
“I think he could sign it, mime it and Morse code it,” Axel countered with a chuckle. He’d endured more than a dozen renditions alongside Jameson and Noel as they all helped me prepare for the trip.
“Good,” Charlie grunted, raising his beer. “Cheers to new beginnings.”
“I can cheers to that,” I said, lifting my beer as the guys all did the same. The clink of glass was accompanied by a chorus of, “To new beginnings,” and, “To Broderick,” and my chest tightened. It would disappoint more than just me if I failed this quest, so I had to ensure I didn’t.
Fingers laced like a net behind my head, I floated in the hot tub, staring up at illuminated palm trees twenty-four hours later. The last glimpse of blue light faded away when I finally peeled myself out of the resort hot tub, toweling off before I stepped into flip-flops. After a shockingly uneventful travel day, I’d settled in, ordered an early dinner, ran my thoughts like a hamster on a wheel in a fierce internal debate over re-writing my entire presentation, though I ultimately left it as is.
Instead, I stripped down, stepped into swim trunks and swam my laps in the heated pool before forcing myself to sit still long enough for a thirty-minute soak in the saltwater sauna. I was ready to hunker down with a good book before getting into bed at a time that would make my grandfather proud. Tomorrow was registration day, and that would inevitably entail a tremendous amount of social interaction I certainly couldn’t care less to indulge. Tolerating that required extra sleep.
That anxiety churning in my stomach was only exacerbated when I stepped back into the hell-scape that was the casino floor. The entire resort was a labyrinth of intricately designed pathways that led to more debauched chaos. “Excuse me, sir, where are the elevators?” I asked a man dressed in a gold, lame piped uniform.
“Follow the patterned carpeting to the flashing lights,” he said without bothering to even look at me as he power-walked through the sea of slot machines.
Left with the least helpful set of directions in the history of all humankind, I chose the least offensive pattern and followed it. As luck would have it, I chose the wrong pattern and found myself wandering past innumerable shops, restaurants, card tables, and slot machines, all hoping to milk a man for every last penny to his name before spitting him out into the cruel desert heat. To paraphrase the Eagles, you can checkout anytime you like, but your money can never leave.
A new sense of apprehension slowed my steps as the chatter of the bustling lobby swallowed the soft slap of my flip-flops on white marble. Countless voices bounced off the intricately carved walls and mural-painted ceiling. But my attention zeroed in on a lean female form poured into a classy black dress and red heels. Brunette hair cascaded down to her shoulder blades, frizzy from an inevitable day of airport insanity, judging by the two carry-on sized bags at her feet. Shoulders tense, she set her long, manicured hands on the desk pleadingly, and goosebumps walked down my spine as a knowing set in. Cautiously edging in closer than necessary to pass them on the way to the elevator, I confirmed what I already knew when she turned, yanking her hand through waves I knew from experience were like silk to the touch.
Holy hell.
